


His Favourite Colours.

by Simonandkieren



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Colour blindness, ColourBlind!Sirius, Cuties, Fluff, I Don't Even Know, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Love, M/M, Synesthesia, because they are close to my heart, synesthetic!Remus, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 11:46:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4347380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Simonandkieren/pseuds/Simonandkieren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything that Remus saw was colour, and everything that Sirius saw was Grey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Favourite Colours.

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I'll Sing You Pretty Sounds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4166202) by [twenty_one_plants](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twenty_one_plants/pseuds/twenty_one_plants). 



> woooooo i actually finished something go me.  
> but yes thank you for clicking to read this story even if you don't read it all but whatever i'll pretend you do  
> I can relate to synethesia so I thought I'd write about it because why not  
> also i have a spotify playlist to go with this?  
> i didnt make it deliberately for this but i was listening to it while i wrote it and the songs fit well with it  
> its called 'Breezeblocks'  
> this was kind of inspired by 'I'll Sing You Pretty Sounds' by twenty_one_plants so thank you for giving me inspiration to actually do somehting

James was stark Reds and flamboyant Golds. Colours that screamed pride and happiness, loyalty and truth, honesty and reassurance. Looking at James and his colours made you feel that you could tell him anything, and he would keep whatever it was to his dying breathe. His Scarlets and imperial Reds would shout to all around, “Look! Look at how proud I am of my friends! Look at how excellent they are! Aren’t they great?” His Brass and shining Yellows were like drinking Felix Felicis and being hoisted onto the shoulders of everyone you loved and being told how amazing you are. Carmines and Lemons, Indian Reds and Marigolds, all rolling into one, becoming an eminent being that you couldn’t help but marvel at and appreciate wholly.

Peter was a lot more subtle. Peter was Lilacs and Silvers. One glance at them and you were instantly soothed. Calmness rolled over you like the gentle tugging and pushing of a beach shoreline, his words relaxing and relieving you of anxiety with Mauve coated syllables. An elegant Silver tongue talked you out of doing ridiculous things, responsibility chalked into his Charcoal sketched letters. Sometimes the colours were short and had little depth to them, but the dusted Pinks and oxford Blues matched so sweetly that it was okay. Occasionally, Magenta would show, warmer than his normal display of hues, when he was overly concerned about his friends, a warning that they needed to look after themselves. He was gentle colours, homely and soft.

Remus didn’t like his own colours. There wasn’t anything particularly bad about them, but there wasn’t anything good either. He was the colour of grass in the morning when the sun hadn’t risen fully; dull without a glow or shine. The gloom of smoke that lingered over the chimney after a roaring fire had been extinguished when everyone had fallen asleep. There were no real names for his colours, which annoyed him to the world’s end, because he needed the names. He had other colours too, but he couldn’t really call them his own. He was like a mirror, reflecting his friend’s colours, a mirror coated in a thick layer of dust. He was every colour, but the shades were muted considerably in a harsh contrast. He was nothing compared to James and Peter, and yet, it was even worse compared to Sirius.

Remus loved Sirius’s colours. Sirius was exuberant Orange, the colour of the snarling carved pumpkins that sat outside muggle houses on Halloween. Sirius was soft Beige, the colour of the perfect cup of tea that Madam Pomfrey had made him one time, as he sat in the hospital wing after a markedly bad full moon. Sirius was deep Green, the colour of his favourite leather bound book in the library, which the strict Madam Pince had actually allowed him to lend one summer. Sirius was cool Grey, the colour of clouds while it was raining in the winter, and water droplets seeped in the smallest of rivers down windows. Sirius was feathery Cream, the colour of his fleece bed sheets at home, that he melded into when the cold made his bones ache. Sirius was all of these and more. The colours of Remus’s favourite things, all in one place for him to look at, and feel every emotion in one glance.  
Sirius saw things differently.

Everything that Remus saw was colour, and everything that Sirius saw was Grey. 

It started happening when he learned his animagus was a dog. Peter was first to go. He turned dark, no colours at all, just the shade of Cement bricks in a pavement. Then it was James. He turned pale, Dusk with some patches of Silver. 

Sirius had always seen himself as a Steel colour anyway, but with Khakis and Indigos too. Somewhere along the line, colours were disappearing quicker than he could think, and he became black, as black as the name that he carried with him and hated so dearly. Not just an ordinary black either, but the black of a deep pit with no end, looping in a constant cycle of shadows, no variation of darkness to help him in the slightest. 

He had sobbed violently into Remus’s shoulder, because Remus was the only thing in the world left with colours, and they were so beautiful too; grass when the morning dew was settling, smoke that rose high and saw things clearly. He couldn’t lose them, and it took him a long time to realise he hadn’t. While he had been worrying about losing them, Remus’s colours had grown, becoming something more with every day that passed. Soon he was Iridescent, every colour that could be, some that he’d never even seen before. His laugh would surround Sirius’s ears and the room would glow profusely like a disco ball with a torch light shining on it. His colours were magnificent and wild, responsible and reckless, royal and thoughtless. There were no limits to them. Before things changed, they were held to the scale of the earth, but now they were raging galaxies, each one a boiling cosmos in an endless sea of Rubies, Sapphires and Emeralds. There was no beginning and no end, completely seamless, only all of the colours, shades, and hues held captive by one being with holes in his soul and the dazzling light radiating through them.

Remus loves Sirius, and his colours.

Sirius loves Remus, and the colours he shows him.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!!  
> Comments and stuff are really appreciated (:  
> (please please please note me on any errors i have made and ill fix them)  
> ((also if you need to talk to anyone about literally anything holla at me))  
> thank you again!


End file.
